


My good looking boy

by Malaiikka



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Child Abduction, Kidnapping, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Time Travel, Underage Sex, ambiguous ending, fucked up family dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malaiikka/pseuds/Malaiikka
Summary: “Once upon a time there was a man and his name was Tony. Just like yours. He was short, just like you. And smart. Just like you. And he was a hero too. He saw things others didn’t see.”“Like the future?”“You could say something like that. Though he didn’t have any special powers like super strength or invisibility. Only his mind. But the mind is a powerful thing Tones and when the time was right the man used that big brain of his to save the entire universe.”“He sounds awesome.”“He was. But that’s the thing with Heroes tony. They die. They die and they leave people behind. People who cared for them very much. Tony left his daughter behind. He didn’t mean to but that’s what Heroes do. They leave and they don’t come back.”The boy quiets, let’s the words sink in his childish brain. Steve gets up, pulls the blankets over his body and turns the night light on.“Steve,” Tony calls out when he reaches the door. “I won’t leave you Steve,” he says into his blankets with as much conviction an eight year old can muster.Steve knows he means it. Now at least. He stalks back, kisses Tony goodnight on top of his head.“I’m holding you to that.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 89
Collections: Stony's Sad Secret Santa





	My good looking boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UisceOneLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UisceOneLove/gifts).



> For UisceOneLove, thank you for the lovely prompt. Hope you enjoy it :D This is my first foray into this fandom and I'm glad to have participated in this challenge so all the thanks to the organizers of the event. Also massive thanks to tar!(tiny telepathy) from the POTS server for beta'ing this for me last minute. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

**_1970_ **

_This Just In: Weapons developer Howard Stark’s newborn son Anthony Stark has gone missing. According to the family butler, a mister Jarvis, the man laid the boy to sleep in his room that night on August the 29th. When he woke up the next morning, the boy was nowhere to be found--_

He switches the station. The reception leaves much to be desired in this decade. 

_Breaking news: Anthony Stark, the three month old son of weapons developer Howard Stark, has gone missing. Officials are on the case blocking all roads in and out of the state and sweeping through airports. As of now the Starks have yet to give a comment or speak to any reporters._

The baby coos in the back grabbing Steve’s attention. He looks at him through the mirror. His pacifier has fallen, his face growing redder with every second, gearing up to cry as his mitts fail at grabbing the pacifier on his chest.

He’s a quiet baby all things considered. Steve reaches back with one hand and sets the binky in his mouth and the baby coos in delight. 

He fiddles with the radio again, finds some channel that plays _oldies_ according to the presenter. 

Cab Calloway is on, Steve turns up the volume; the only glance he spares back is to check on Tony and keeps on driving, fingers happily tapping away at the steering wheel. 

\- 

The town is quaint, in the middle of nowhere out in the forests of Appalachia and boasts a population of less than six thousand.

He sets his bags down, the baby in one hand as he signs into the town's only hotel. 

Tomorrow he’ll get up, start looking for work as soon as possible. Something to get them by at least. His first priority is Tony. 

The few tourists here and workers alike fawn over Tony as they pass by, some of them stopping long enough to make polite conversation.

He’s Steven O’Sherin around these parts. Tony in turn becomes Anthony Edwards. 

They all raise their eyebrows at the lack of a shared surname. He spins a tale about being a retired army soldier and how Tony belongs to a fallen comrade of his. He tells them he moved to the rustic town to raise Tony away from the madness of the big city. 

In return they place their hands on their chests in sympathy and tell him how kind he is to put a halt on his own life for the boy. 

They don’t know, one day they’ll learn. He’d do anything for Tony.

-

Steve buys the cabin on the outskirts of the town that’s more part of the forest than the rest of civilization but that’s why he likes it. He spends the rest of the summer renovating it himself. It’s quaint but picturesque. Like a painting with lights strung out and a big enough porch outfront with a looming forest behind. 

It’s perfect. 

\- 

Tony is slow to speak. 

He’s two years old now. Steve works as a miner and leaves him in the town’s only day care for a few hours a day. 

The worker there means well when she tells him quietly at the end of the day. 

Still, the words come spilling out of his mouth and he doesn’t have it in him to regret them once they’re in the air. 

“He’ll speak when he has something to say.” He says, leaving no room for argument. 

It’s not that cutting he thinks, but it does have the lady fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater and stammering out an apology- for what, even she doesn’t know. 

Tony’s just shy. Steve knows this. 

The doctors ask him about it too whenever he takes him to the clinic. Words are thrown behind his back. Words like slow and retard. In the near future they’ll have better terms for it. And the part that knows they mean more well than ill is the reason he doesn’t bash someone’s head in for the comments. 

He picks Tony up and on the way home they practice their abc’s. 

Tony doesn’t speak the entire walk back to their cabin but when Steve sounds a letter out he’s able to point it out on the book and claps for himself every time he gets it correct.

A few months later and Tony will utter his first words. 

“Tony.” He points to himself and says it over and over again. The floodgates finally open because once he starts talking he can’t seem to keep quiet. The worker, Sheila, exhales in relief. 

“You’re a smart boy Tony,” he makes sure to tell him over and over again on their walk home that evening, Tony’s head tucked under his chin, pudgy arms around his neck. 

“The smartest boy in the entire universe.”

-

He considers this to be the first sign among many that will follow. 

The scar on Tony’s head keeps calling to him, his eyes drifting back to look at it. 

It happens when Steve tries to teach him how to swim.

A squeaky “Steve” had been his only warning before Tony’s swept away by a current too strong for his little body.

_He asked once in what feels like eons ago. Tony had this Olympic sized pool in the tower installed that Steve liked frequenting. Sometimes after missions they’d all come together and decompress, whether by swimming laps till his muscles burned like Steve, or floating and lazing around till one eventually fell asleep in the pool like Natasha. Even the Hulk dipped his toes in._

_Tony never joined them. One day, Bruce decided to take it upon himself to rectify it._

_“You know how to swim?” He’d asked._

_“Well yes—“ and whatever Tony had been about to say was cut off when Bruce pushed him in and all watched as Tony struggled to come up even though it’d been the shallower end._

_“I thought you said you knew how to swim!” Bruce says in the after._

_“I did!” Tony’s teeth had been chattering and Thor grabbed for the nearest thing, his cape, and placed it on his shoulders. No explanation offered, Tony made his exit._

_Natasha is the one who explained it to them later._

_Afghanistan. Waterboarding. Trauma. She shared only a few scant words on the matter but it was enough for Bruce to recoil inward, lean into his guilt and none of them attempted something like that again._

He takes Tony to the clinic and watches like a hawk as the doctor patches him up. It’s work he’d have done himself, he’s earned enough experience in lifetimes past to be able to do these kinds of things but he finds his hands useless with trembling. They shake the entire way to the clinic until Tony takes one of his own palms into his smaller hand and squeezes, the other clutches a bloodied cloth at his temple.

His Tony had a similar scar. No not similar, the exact same.

_It’d been in the early days of living in the tower when Steve hadn’t quite learned how to navigate a conversation with Tony and avoiding the metaphorical land mines of topics that were a no go zone._

_“What was he like?”_

_“Hmm”_

_“Howard. I didn’t peg him as a family man. What was he like as a father?” He’d asked naively._

_“A drunk, Steve.” Tony had answered matter of factly, tumbler in hand. “See this?” He points to his temple where a faint line interrupts the smooth skin only noticeable when it’s pointed out. “That’s Howard. Gave it to me when I was six I think?”_

_He takes a generous swig then continues, “He was drunk off his ass and mad at me. Can’t remember for what, all i know is i had to get away from him and in the process ended up taking a tumble trying to get up the stairs. Bastard didn’t even take me to the hospital, just had Jarvis patch me up.”_

The scar is a sign. More likely a warning. The universe conveying its message and Steve gets it, loud and clear: 

_You’re nothing_.

-

The inevitable question comes but Steve’s had years to prepare for it. 

Tony’s supposed to construct a family tree. 

“I tried to get out of the assignment Steve, I really did,” He says frantic, as if somehow he’s done something wrong for having homework. 

“Ok Tony calm--calm down. You’re not in trouble, why are you acting like this?” He’s had a long day at the mine and currently feels spread thin. 

Tony’s bottom lip wobbles and Steve pulls him into his lap. At eight, Tony’s shorter than every boy in his class and one or two girls, barely reaching Steve’s neck when sitting in his lap. The townsfolk offer advice(one person swears by bovine milk, the other by protein, and yet another by cycling), the entire shiftless bunch of them with nothing to do but twiddle their thumbs and poke their noses in other people’s business. 

“You’re sad.” Tony sniffles into his shirt. 

“You’re sad...because i’m sad?” He asks, incredulous trying to connect the dots. 

“You don’t like talking about my real mom and dad. I know it Steve.” His little fists are scrunched as he speaks. He’s been putting on too good of an act apparently. 

“Tony that’s not-- you shouldn’t have to worry about it.” 

“I can’t help it.” The boy whines.

“Well then. I promise I won't be sad anymore, how about that Tones? And thank you for noticing Tony. You’re very intuitive.” He finishes and holds the boy closer to his chest. 

“Sir, what does that mean?” 

“It means you’re very smart Tony. The smartest boy in the universe.” 

That night Steve shares a story. 

“ _Once upon a time, there was a man and his name was Tony. Just like yours. He was short, just like you. And smart, very smart Tony. Just like you. And he was a hero too. He saw things others didn’t see.”_

_“Like the future?”_

_“You could say something like that. Though he didn’t have any special powers like super strength or invisibility. Only his mind. But the mind is a powerful thing Tones. That’s why you go to school and you get homework because it’s a muscle and when the time was right the man used that big brain of his to save the entire universe.”_

_“He sounds awesome.”_

_“He was. But that’s the thing with Heroes Tony. They die. They die and they leave people behind. People who cared for them very much. Tony left his daughter behind. He didn’t mean to but that’s what Heroes do. They leave and they don’t come back.”_

_The boy quiets, let’s the words sink in his childish brain. Steve gets up, pulls the blankets over his body and turns the night light on._

_“Steve,” Tony calls out when he reaches the door. “I won’t leave you Steve,” he says into his blankets with as much conviction an eight year old can mutter._

_Steve knows he means it. Now at least. He stalks back, kisses Tony goodnight on top of his head._

_“I’m holding you to that.”_

-

He catalogues the years by the scars Tony gains. Each and every single one he’s seen before. 

The one on his knee is a skateboarding accident at seven. He doesn’t quite take to bicycles but somehow skateboarding is what works. Tony'd come back that evening bleeding from his knees and palms and Steve had patched him up right there in the kitchen, kissing each knee after he was done. 

In his own timeline, Tony got the scar from falling off a tree one summer he’d spent at school after his parents failed to come get him. 

_“I think that’s the first time I'd really hated them,” Tony had said with Steve running a finger over his knee. I’d blamed them so much. I was bored, the only kid left at school while everyone else gets a summer break and remaining faculty just let me do what the fuck ever to get me off their backs.” Tony had recounted. “I mean fuck, I spent my birthday crying my eyeballs out that summer. Didn’t even get a card from them or anything. Jarvis had tried sending a card with their names on it but even then I’d known it would take a whole lot to get mom and dad in the same room to sign the damn thing.”_

The scars taunt him but no one, not even the universe can tell him he chose the wrong thing. Tony grows up strong and healthy. Without Howard to terrorize him and a mother too apathetic and fucked up on pills to tuck him in bed.

He’s there for Tony’s first words. His first steps. Steve’s the one who’s there when Tony learns how to grab a spoon properly and when he picks up a pencil with his left hand and goes to town on Steve’s sketch paper. 

He’s there to take Tony on his first camping trip where the boy shakes with fear of bears no matter how many times Steve tells him there aren’t any. It’s a clear night though, Steve settles him in his sleeping bag and explains the stars away to the boy until he’s snoring. 

He’s there when he gets his teeth pulled out by the dentist who expresses marvel at him not having gone down the old string and door knob route all the townsfolk choose. Steve doesn’t tell him they’re just all too poor to afford dental. 

Steve is there. Every step of the way. 

**_1982_ **

_Reclusive billionaire, Howard Stark of Stark Industries claims that whoever is capable of finding his long lost missing son Anthony Stark will be awarded twelve million dollars upon his safe return. We will remind you, Anthony has been missing for 12 years. Listeners tune in and tell us your views. Do you think Anthony Stark is still alive? Or maybe tell us what you’d do with the reward money here, only on channel 181._

\- 

He seeks comfort only once. 

His name is Colby. A sandy haired man, burly and, 25 years in age. He works the mines with Steve and never fails to invite him over at the bar every Friday for the two years they’ve known each other. 

When the urge becomes too much to bear and Steve needs something more than his palm he finally takes him up on his offer. 

It’s that time of the year when autumn blends into winter. Colby takes his dick out which does it’s best to shrivel against the frosty night air in Colby’s warm palm, his eyes twinkling with the stars.

He can’t remember the last time he let someone else do this for him. 

It lasts minutes at most. He comes embarrassingly fast after the man takes him down his throat and after he takes his time licking him clean out the back of the bar. 

It’s a wham bam, thank you ma’am kind of affair. He doesn’t get the chance to at least reciprocate when Colby tells him he thinks he hears someone coming outside and the two part with a handshake and a manly pat to the others’ back. 

Safe to assume it’s not a simple machination of his imagination when the next week he shows up to work and all the men treat him as if he’s some walking form of VD they have to keep six feet apart from and Colby is appropriately missing from that day’s roster of work men.

-

Airports and highways are out of the question so the one vacation Steve takes them on is in a neighboring town. 

Tony’s thirteen, just starting to experience the throes of puberty. It makes him irritable. He bangs doors and refuses to come out for dinner. Steve would think the nice little boy he’s raised vanished over night if it weren’t for the guilty look Tony sports these days when he does something wrong. 

So Steve arranges for the vacation. The boy’s antsy, he’s never left the town till that point, and though Steve isn’t exactly swimming in options of where to take him, he manages something. 

Tony talks Steve’s ears off the entire car ride there. A week they spend there mostly Steve trying to teach Tony how to fish and lazing around in the weak autumn sun. 

“You alright?” It’s their seventh and final day and they spend it at the beach. 

“Fine.” Is the boy’s terse response. 

“I thought only girls got mood swings at puberty.” He gets a glare in return. Tony chucks wet sand at his chest and stalks back to their hotel room. 

“Kids huh.” Someone says a few feet away from him. “Can’t promise it’ll get better, but you’ll learn how to deal with him.” The stranger continues heedless of how his last statement put Steve’s teeth on edge. Tony isn’t something to _deal_ with. He’s Steve’s. 

“Did I ask?” he snarls it out of his breath till the man backs up and he marches off into Tony’s direction. 

Only on the ride back does Tony share what’s bothering him. 

“I didn’t like them.” He has his knees drawn up in the seat with his face resting in between them and Steve has to strain to hear him. 

“Who?” 

“The women. At the beach.” It comes out through gritted teeth. “I didn’t like the way they were looking at you.” 

And Steve well...he’s at loss of what to say. _What the hell does that even mean_ is what goes through his mind but Tony’s already in a delicate state right now so he doesn’t voice it. 

“And how were they looking at me?” He goes for a laugh like it’s one big joke. 

“I don’t know, I just--“ Tony’s ears burn. “I didn't like it.” And because Steve’s curiosity has been piqued he asks, 

“Were you jealous?” 

Tony seems to mull over the question before answering. “Maybe… I don’t know. When Christelyn’s father married he started ignoring her. That’s what she tells everyone at school.” 

“And you don’t want to be ignored.” 

“I’m sorry.” Tony whispers.

“Do you think I'd do anything like that to you?” 

“No I don't!” He vehemently says. 

He stops the car off the side, gets out and goes to the passengers side. He takes Tony into his arms like he’s done countless times before. 

“It’s just you and me kid, okay. No one else, I promise.” 

\- 

There’s a shift in their dynamic. Steve feels it. Whatever had been bothering Tony simply dissipates away like it was never there in the first place and he goes back to being his sweet boy. 

It would be disconcerting if Steve didn’t enjoy it so much. Not just that, it’s good for Tony. 

_This_ Tony, young and wonder-eyed never has an unkind word for Steve. No cutting remarks are ever thrown his way. 

Tony gets to grow up with a Steve that’s selfish enough to stay by his side. To choose Tony, not abandoning him in the ice like he’d done a lifetime ago.

If Steve gets to have any say in the matter, then this Tony will never have to feel the pain of Afghanistan. He’ll never grow up to be a hero and have the weight and responsibility of the world, of the universe on his back like some kind of Atlas. 

Everyone had always wanted too much of Tony for themselves. This Tony will learn how to be selfish. Steve’ll make sure of it.

Steve’s good for Tony. And in turn, Tony’s good for him. 

\- 

**_1985_ **

It happened one night, when Steve and Tony finally reached where they’ve been hurtling towards this entire time. 

Tony is 15 when Steve gets called in by the school. 

“He pushed a female classmate of his.” The principal, an unremarkable, dull man drones. 

“Tony,” he says standing behind his seat in the principal’s office. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

“She started it!” 

“Well we’ve already established that Mr. Edwards. How did she start it is the question,” the principal coaxes. 

Tony resolutely does not open his mouth to answer. 

“One more chance, what did she do to you.” More silence. 

“Tony none of us can help you if you don’t say anything.” Steve’s words are also met with no response. 

The principal sighs, rubs at his eyes behind his glasses. 

“If he won’t say anything he gets suspension for the next week. That’s the policy.” 

“It’s his first incident,” Steve responds through clenched teeth. Tony’s a good boy. 

“Mr O’Sherin, he put his hands on a female student and doesn’t give a reason as to why when asked. Did she provoke you Anthony?” 

Tony at least nods this time. 

“How?” And it’s back to silence again. The principal flails his hand around in a _see what I’m talking about_ manner. 

“Right ok then. Any chance we can pick up his work for the next week?” 

“That would defeat the point of the suspension.” 

No words are exchanged on the way back home. Tony leans his head on the glass with his eyes shut the entire time. One thing Steve’s learned though is Tony will come to him in his own time.

“Let’s go on a walk.” He takes them down the trail behind the cabin he runs on in the mornings. It’s dusk, the sky is golden as the sun sets. He pulls Tony’s coat around him and walks, pretends he doesn’t see the boy peer at him every few minutes.

Eventually, when it becomes too unbearable for Tony, Steve assumes, he tells him what happened. 

“It was Christy.” 

“The Foy girl?” He asks. 

“Yeah she — she called you something. I didn’t like it.” 

“So you pushed her.” 

“Well she wouldn’t cut it out. And she kept saying it over and over again.” 

“Tony,” he sighs out, chooses his next words carefully as they come to a halt and Steve places his palms on Tony’s shoulders. “I appreciate you standing up for me kiddo.” Tony positively beams at that. 

“But, I don’t want you getting in trouble on my behalf okay? I take care of you. Not the other way around.” 

Tony’s head is bowed and Steve only knows he said something because he sees his lips moving. 

“What was that?” 

“I want to-- I don’t mind Steve, I really don’t… I want to take care of you.” 

And then, it happens so fast. The boy is up on his toes and his lips are pressed on Steve’s for barely a second. A mere suggestion of it really. And then it’s over, and it finally dawns on Tony what he’s done. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, frightfully before taking off in the direction of the cabin and Steve’s too gobsmacked to call out after him, fingers lingering where Tony’s lips had been. 

He’s ashamed to say the first place he goes is not home to Tony but the bar. They don’t keep alcohol at home, Tony doesn’t need the temptation of it. 

So he seeks out the bar, finds a cozy spot for himself to think. 

Steve’s changed. Not just outwardly. He’s sported a beard for the past few decades. The serum that kept him perpetually young in another lifetime seems to have met its match with time travel. There’s only so much a human body can take, super powered or not. He’s still not aging at a normal pace, but some days he does wake up to new lines on his face and a grey hair or two. 

He left the fighting behind too. The last time he fought someone or _something_ was on that battlefield where Tony gave up his life. The shield found a new use collecting dust in the back of Steve’s closet in the 39 years he’s been in the past. He likes to think he left that life behind- this guy though. This guy’s really fucking asking for it. 

“Hey! Hey O'Sherin, I'm talking to you.” 

“What do you want Foy,” he’s the last person he wants to see. 

“An apology would be nice for one. Your son— or, or whatever he is hurt my girl.” 

“The way I heard it, your girl started it. Tony simply finished it. Fuck off.” 

“She wasn’t wrong. You know Sanders saw you that night with Colby. We all know about it you fucking _faggot_.” 

“Back off Foy. I promise it won’t end well for you.” 

And then, the other men, miners Steve has worked with for the past fifteen years, all stand up and get behind Foy. 

Ok then, if that’s how they want to play it. Steve’s fought against gods and things these people can’t even begin to fathom. 

If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll get. 

Foy gets in the first punch and Steve let’s him. And then it’s him against seven grown men. 

It all comes back to him like muscle memory and the entire affair lasts about ten minutes. The bar is trashed by the end but the message is clear and the remaining patrons are wise enough to stay out of Steve’s way. 

He stinks of fight and he doesn’t want to take that home to Tony so he sticks it out till the police from a neighboring town make it to theirs and it’s filling out a report which is backed up by multiple witnesses. He was ganged up on, and they got what they deserved. 

-

“Steve!” He’s barely closed the door before Tony’s flung himself at him. 

“Steve?” And he touches his face where he’s swollen. So much for not bringing it back home. 

Tony, sweet and gentle, ushers him into the bathroom. Wets a warm cloth with water and wipes away at the blood the best he can and holds eyes to his face till the swelling goes down. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What, this?” And he points to his face. “It’s nothing Tony.” 

“No,” Steve hisses when Tony accidentally presses on the ice. “Sorry about…about t _he other thing._ ” 

If Steve were still a good man, he’d accept the apology. He’d accept it and then it would be the end of things. 

But what Steve does instead is pull the boy in, winds his arms around him, and lays his head on his chest and It’s just the two of them. 

“Did you mean it?” 

Tony squeezes where he has his hands wrapped around Steve. 

“Mhmm.” He hesitates before continuing. “You’re the only one I have, I— I love you Steve.” 

It’s the one thing his Tony never got to say to him, and it plays over and over again in his mind. 

When he stands with Tony in his arms and takes him to his room, lays him out on the bed. When he divests them of clothing, and he sees Tony in a new light. Where his sweet innocent boy makes way for this older Tony, with hair in places it never used to be as Steve discovers that night. The slightest inkling of muscle on his boy’s arms and the way his voice drops in the night without him even noticing. 

A Tony who still wants Steve, albeit a little bit differently now. 

Tony kisses him. Again and again. On his mouth and cheeks, he kisses him till he’s dizzy with it. They don’t fuck, not on their first night at least, but Steve shows him how to line up their cocks and he guides Tony at using his one hand to jerk them off. Tony comes first all over his hand and all over Steve’s dick and the sight of it has Steve following suit and he comes on Tony’s thighs.

Tony curls up to him after, content. He’s drowsy, his beautiful boy can barely keep his eyes open where they flutter against Steve’s chest and Steve gathers him tight and close in the night and doesn’t let go. 

-

He finds himself laying down naked as the day he was born with Tony astride on top of him whimpering in the throes of pleasure Steve’s cock brings him. 

Tony lets himself go lax on top. Lets Steve control their infuriatingly slow pace with his hands on his hips. 

“Something wrong,” Steve teases when Tony tries to increase the pace, his effort futile with the iron hold Steve has on him. Tony's seventeen now and a whole lot more sure of his body and the effect he's got on Steve. He likes provoking him like that, Steve finds out. Tony likes the marks and Steve tries not to ponder too much on what that means for a teenager. 

His hands are slipping where sweat gathers on Tony’s heated skin but he still finds enough grip to turn them over and give it to Tony hard and good in a way that has him screaming his voice hoarse into Steve’s shoulders and tightening deliciously on Steve’s cock. 

After, they’re sated and out of breath, Tony finding himself in his normal spot under Steve’s chin. 

“I changed my mind.” Tony breaks their post-fuck haze.

“Hmm, about what?” 

“MIT,” and at that Steve’s ears perk up. Tony wouldn’t have even thought of it if his meddling teachers hadn’t given him a brochure and put the thought of leaving Steve in his boy’s mind. 

“And what did you change your mind to?” 

Tony’s fingers play absentmindedly on Steve’s chest, his breath tickling the hairs there when he answers. He’s going to attend the local college an hour away, Tony tells him. 

“I told you remember. I’m not going to leave you alone,” he says through a yawn.

Steve remembers that night when Tony had only been eight years old but swore fealty to Steve. 

He pulls the blankets over the boy like he did that night years ago. Except this time he doesn’t leave the room, and he gets to kiss Tony’s lips and hold him naked in his arms. 

And just like that night years ago when Tony falls asleep, Steve whispers into the darkness yet again. 

  
_“I’m holding you to that.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated! I'm itching to write a part two to address some things I feel like I didn't get to in this story but hope you enjoyed it if you've gotten this far.


End file.
